“Your smile is lovely, Iris. I want to swallow it whole so much.” Iris, who was called the Duke of Whittle’s flower, in fact lived and died like a weed that had grown in hell. For the life that she had gained again, she had approached Keivrand, a fiery and beastly man, to use for the sake of living a comfortable life. “Let’s try and see if you can make me hot? I don’t know if that’s possible.” A fairytale of a proud woman and a beast.